


The Capture

by Anonymous



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Daily Prophet, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Good Pansy Parkinson, Good Slytherins, Gossip, Gryffindor, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Idiots in Love, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, POV Pansy Parkinson, Post-Hogwarts, Puddlemere United Quidditch Team, Quidditch, Slytherin, Tag(line) You're It! Competition, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-12 07:22:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29631099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Glaring across the table at her friend, Pansy snapped, “and why would you think that, Daph? In what world would a man like Oliver ever want to date a woman like me?”*******Budding journalist Pansy Parkinson is assigned to the most dreaded of sections at The Daily Prophet— Sports. During a routine assignment, Pansy finds that one particular Quidditch player catches her eye.However, since he's a former Gryffindor, Pansy feels as though she has no chance of winning his love.But maybe, just maybe, Slytherins really are skilled in the art of capturing Gryffindor hearts.
Relationships: Daphne Greengrass/Ron Weasley, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson/Oliver Wood
Comments: 7
Kudos: 13
Collections: Tag(line) You're It! Competition





	The Capture

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [Tagline_Youre_It_Comp_2020](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Tagline_Youre_It_Comp_2020) collection. 



> I had such a wonderful time writing for this competition! My story is inspired by the tagline itself, not necessarily the movie it's attached to, haha!
> 
> I went out on a limb and decided to add the "Director's Choice" element, so my prompt and one of my main characters was chosen for me by our amazing admins! It was a great way to really push myself and I am thankful I went for it! 
> 
> The Admins Gave Me:
> 
> Movie: Urban Legend (1998)  
> Tagline Prompt: "It happened to someone who knows someone you know...You're next."  
> Character: Oliver Wood 
> 
> Thank you to my amazing beta. I honestly could not have finished this without your encouragement and support. Thank you for dealing with my relentless whining. 
> 
> Thank you to the admins for creating such an amazing event!

**_July 2002_ **

The sweltering heat from the July sun surrounded Pansy as she slowly made her way up the stairs to the Quidditch stands. The air was thick with humidity and as usual, she had come overdressed. Her tall black pumps offered no comfort, and the constriction of her tight pencil skirt made each step feel like she was trudging through molasses. 

Making her way to the top, she found a spot in the first row. Pansy gracefully sat and crossed her ankles—even if her normally sleek and immaculate bob was now desperately trying to frizz due to the sweat dripping from her brow, Pansy would show no signs of being uncomfortable. This was supposed to be a casual article about Puddlemere United’s newest Seeker. It wasn’t even a match she was attending—just a simple practice session. Her mission was to look pretty, take a few notes, and snap a couple pictures. So here she was, boiling under the relentless sun, hoping her mascara didn’t drip down her face. 

The worst part about all of this was that Pansy Parkinson  _ hated  _ Quidditch. 

Honestly, it was completely undignified and utterly pointless. Sweaty witches and wizards making fools of themselves on a broomstick while massive crowds of drunk idiots cheered them on was not something that appealed to Pansy in any way. She was more than a little annoyed that she was forced to apparate to the middle of nowhere on a Saturday for something she found so ridiculous, but she knew she had to start somewhere. 

Pansy knew that it was  _ clearly _ some cruel form of torture that  _ The Prophet _ assigned her to the sports department and not fashion as she had requested.  _ Clearly  _ this was karma coming back to bite her on the arse for all her misdeeds. And as Pansy pulled her notebook out from her bag, she knew that she was  _ clearly _ out of her element. 

A shadow loomed over her as she rummaged around in her bag looking for her quill. Glancing up, she met the eyes of who she assumed was the team manager, Mr. Deverill. He reached out a hand and said, “Hello, you must be Miss Parkinson.” 

Taking his hand and giving it a small shake, Pansy replied, “The one and only.” 

“Philbert Deverill. You’re a bit early—the players have just started their practice drills. If you don’t mind sitting here for a bit, I’ll grab Gibson for the interview shortly.” 

Pansy smiled, but was already dreading the amount of time she’d have to sit in the heat. “That sounds great.” Holding up her camera, she said, “I’ll try and get a few action shots while I wait”. 

With a sharp nod, Mr. Deverill turned and headed back down the steps. 

While fiddling around with her camera, Pansy became lost watching the quidditch players zoom back and forth, incorporating what looked to be complex dives. She knew they had received new uniforms this year and they were stunning—fitted dark blue with gold trim. She couldn’t help but notice one particular player who flew with amazing speed and confidence. He actually looked  _ beautiful  _ on his broom—almost like he and the broom were partners in a unique sort of dance. He seemed vaguely familiar, but he was moving so fast Pansy couldn’t tell for certain. 

Feeling like she had been sitting on the uncomfortable bench for hours, she cast a  _ Tempus  _ spell and was disappointed to find it had barely been ten minutes. With a huff, she sat back down and began to scribble notes about their flashy new uniforms. 

“You here with the  _ Prophet _ ?” A thick Scottish accent cascaded over the stands. 

Pansy looked up to see the familiar looking Quidditch player smiling at her from his broom. He leaned forward, crossing his arms on the railing. He was even more handsome up close. Dark, windswept hair and a flashy smile that could charm the knickers off any witch. 

“Oh, yes.” Feeling unusually flustered, Pansy glanced back down at her notes. “You wouldn’t happen to be the new seeker, uh… Samuel Gibson?” 

“Seeker? Uh, no,” he chuckled. “Parkinson, right?” 

Pansy stared back, wondering how he knew her name. 

He continued, “Name’s Oliver Wood. I think I was a few years above you at Hogwarts?” 

_ That’s why he seemed familiar.  _

As gracefully as she could, Pansy shifted on her seat and wiped a bit of sweat off her brow. “Oh, yes. Wood. You um, played Quidditch for…” Pansy suddenly had a flashback to a younger version of this man in blinding red robes. “Gryffindor?” 

“That was me.” He motioned for her to lean closer, and smirked. “Though, I was the  _ captain _ for the last three years I attended”. 

Feeling much more in her element, Pansy flicked her hair back. “Is that supposed to impress me?” 

A fiery look flashed across Oliver’s face as his lips quirked into a devilish smirk. Before she could say another word, he zoomed off with a wink. 

Pansy couldn’t help but feel like maybe he had impressed her—just a little bit. 

************************************************

**_October 2002_ **

Pansy sat at the kitchen table painting her nails. Daphne was due home from work any minute and they had plans to go dancing tonight. As she gently blew across the glittering red, she was startled by a sudden tap at the window above the sink. A beautiful grey owl perched on the windowsill with a large envelope resting in its clutches. 

With a wave of her hand, Pansy opened the window and allowed the bird entrance. “Aren’t you a pretty one”. Pansy cooed as the owl floated across the kitchen, landing on the table in front of her. 

“Oh, whose owl is that?” Daphne appeared in the kitchen with a bottle of wine and a sour look on her face. Pansy started thinking that maybe they weren’t going to be dancing tonight after all. 

“I think she belongs to Granger. And I think I know  _ exactly _ what’s in that envelope.” 

“Oh?” Daphne set down the wine and gently took the letter from the owl. She went to grab her a treat from the fridge as she pulled it open. “It’s a save the date!”

“I  _ knew _ it!” Pansy reached over and greedily snatched the shimmering paper from Daphne’s hands. “Ooo it’s going to be a winter wedding. I am sure that was Granger’s idea.” Pansy smirked. “Narcissa hates the snow.” 

Handing the owl a treat, Daphne sat at the table with a sigh. “I’m thrilled for Draco. I haven’t seen him this happy since we were children. Hermione really brings out the best in him.” 

“You know Daph,” Pansy waved the save the date in front of her face, “I think Weasley is going to pop the question any day now.” 

“Yeah, right. He has made  _ zero  _ mention of our future.” Daphne huffed. “And when I bring it up, he gets all… red and sweaty.” 

“Whatever, I know you’re next. I bet he’s plotting something ridiculously over the top.” 

Daphne sat up, giving Pansy a quizzical look. “You know, I heard something interesting today. How are things with Oliver?” 

Pansy immediately tensed. Since their meeting in July, Pansy had seen Oliver many times. Two days after he charmed his way into her thoughts, he charmed his way into her office and asked her for coffee. She found that she really enjoyed spending time with Oliver—he was funny, smart, and nothing like the few random Quidditch players she had brief conversations with in the past.

But they were just friends. Even if Oliver checked all of her boxes, Pansy knew that she would never check all of his. How could she? 

She would always be the Slytherin princess. The girl who in a moment of pure panic and cowardice tried to hand over Harry Potter to The Dark Lord. There wasn’t a chance that a brave man like Oliver Wood, a man who was the embodiment of a Gryffindor, would ever look at her that way. 

And yet, there were a few times when their hands would touch, or his gaze would linger on hers just a little too long—when Pansy would feel the flutter of a thousand butterflies taking flight in her stomach. But she knew it was one sided and a fantasy that existed only in her head. 

“Things with Oliver are fine.” Pansy glanced at her nails and tried her best to sound flippant. “Why? What did you hear that was so  _ interesting?”  _

Daphne leaned in close like she had a secret she was trying to keep private. “Well, Tracey told me that she heard from a coworker whose cousin is on Oliver’s team that he was seeing someone.” 

Pansy felt her heart drop down to her toes. She had just had lunch with Oliver yesterday and he hadn’t mentioned anything. She tried her hardest to school her face into a bored expression. “He hasn’t mentioned anything to me.” 

Daphne looked skeptically at Pansy and shrugged. “I figured he meant you.” 

Glaring across the table at her friend, Pansy snapped, “and why would you think that, Daph? In what world would a man like Oliver ever want to date a woman like me?” 

“I don’t know, Pans. Slytherins seem to have a way of stealing Gryffindor hearts.” Daphne picked up the letter and mimicked Pansy’s earlier action of waving it around in her face. “It’s happened to  _ so many _ people we know. Look at Hermione and Draco. Who would have guessed that  _ these two _ would be the love story of the century?” 

“Yes, and you used those pretty blonde curls and adorable dimples to charm your way into Ron Weasley’s pants.”

Daphne gasped and leaned over to smack Pansy with the letter. “Don’t be gross.” 

Laughing, Pansy stood and reached out a hand. “Come on, I need a drink and a cute wizard to dance up against.” 

After all, the one boy she wanted to dance with was seeing someone and didn’t feel the need to tell her.

_ And why should she care? _

************************************

Monday morning found Pansy in her office going over her monthly agenda. She had four more Quidditch matches to attend for October and of course the next one was with Puddlemere on Saturday. 

She couldn’t say she was _ mad _ at Oliver for not telling her about this mystery girl, but she was hurt. What she couldn’t puzzle out was whether she was hurt that he didn’t tell her, or hurt that the woman wasn’t her. 

_ You have no right to feel hurt over the latter.  _

Pansy shook her head and started writing down important dates for November. A sharp knock at her door startled her, and before she could give permission for entrance, Oliver came strolling into her workspace holding two coffees. 

He flashed her  _ that smile _ and the butterflies came alive once again. “Brought you a coffee.” He set the cup down in front of her as he took a long sip from his own. “You didn’t respond to my owl on Saturday.” 

Pansy set down her pen. “I guess I was busy.” Reaching for her coffee, she tried to feign disinterest. “Thank you for the coffee, though I am not sure why they keep letting you barge in here.” 

“That’s for me to know,” he smirked.

Pansy sat back in her chair, crossing one leg over the other. “Fine. Keep your _ secrets _ .” She knew she was being rather short, but the more she thought about it, the more frustrated she felt about being excluded.

Oliver didn’t seem to notice as he plopped down in the chair across from her desk. “So, I got the invitation to Granger’s wedding over the weekend. I’m assuming you did as well.” 

"Yes, it delayed my big Friday night plans. Daphne and I went  _ dancing _ ." Pansy shot Oliver a devious look, but he seemed unbothered by her attempt at petty jealousy. 

“I was hoping that maybe we could go together?” 

Pansy felt a mixture of confusion and annoyance bubbling up inside of her. Why was he asking her to be his date? Was he wanting to go as friends? She truly couldn’t think of a bigger insult. Even more frustrating was the fact that Oliver responded so differently than other men—she was normally poised and confident around the opposite sex, yet Oliver always left her feeling off balance. It was unnerving.

_ Damn Gryffindors.  _

Pansy inspected a stray blot of ink on her calendar as she calculated her response. “Isn’t that something you should ask the girl you’re seeing?” She glanced back at Oliver who had a puzzled look painted across his face. 

_ So she had caught him.  _

Before Oliver could respond, she continued, “Daphne told me that she heard from Tracey that you were seeing someone. It’s  _ fine _ . I know that we’re new friends— you don’t need to tell me about your love life.

“Pansy…”

“No, really. We haven’t even known each other for that long. It’s none of my business.” Pansy leaned forward, pinning him with her perfected  _ I dont give a fuck _ stare. “Besides, I already have a date for the wedding so you don’t need to worry about me.” Leaning back in her chair, Pansy flashed him with a brilliant smile while flipping her hair over her shoulder. 

Oliver’s normally cheery demeanor had taken a sharp dive as his familiar smile morphed into a frown. He stood quickly, letting out a sigh. “You know what, Pansy? Forget it. I feel like you are purposefully acting a bit dense. I guess I’ll see you at the next game.” 

Turning, Oliver left her office and Pansy had the distinct feeling that she had fucked up—big time. 

  
  


*******************************************

Pansy was filled with anxiety as she sauntered up the steps to the Quidditch stands. She hadn’t spoken to Oliver since their altercation on Monday and she found herself missing his company, his quick wit, and  _ that smile. _ She knew she had miscalculated somewhere in their conversation, but she couldn’t figure out  _ why _ he became so upset. 

She knew she had acted a little petty, but she hadn’t said anything that wasn’t true. She had obsessed about what he could have meant about her being “a bit dense”, but she couldn’t make sense of his words. 

She found her normal spot in front where she could be privy to the action. The game was Puddlemere United versus The Holyhead Harpies and their rivalry was fierce and intense. She was early, the teams hadn’t even appeared from the locker rooms to start their warm ups yet, but she figured she could use the time to relax and check on her previous notes about the players. 

While reviewing her notes on the fiery Mrs. Ginevra Potter—who was bound to make some impressive plays, Pansy felt she was being observed. She glanced up to find herself staring to the dark eyes of Oliver. 

He stood over her, leaning on his broom. Giving her a small half smile, he took a deep breath and blurted, “I’m sorry about the other day.” 

Pansy hesitated for a moment before motioning to her left. “Do you have time to sit for a minute?”

He nodded as he plopped down next to her, his thigh lightly resting against hers. She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks and the butterflies— _ those damn butterflies— _ fluttering around her stomach. 

The awkward silence stretched as they both stared out over the field. The Harpies had just begun their warm ups, and Pansy knew their time was limited. She took a breath before turning to face him. “It’s fine. I really shouldn’t have been prying into your private life like that.” 

“No, Pansy, I shouldn’t have said those things to you.” He paused, rubbing his palms on his thighs. “And I shouldn’t have left like that. There was no reason for me to be so... rude.” 

She had so many questions begging to burst free from her lips, but she held on tight and forced herself to remain as breezy as possible. With a small wave of her hand, she smiled, “Consider it forgotten.”

“I know I came across as a bit of a brute when you mentioned you had a date...” Oliver flashed her a small smirk. 

“Oh Oliver, don’t be ridiculous. Please, we’re  _ fine.”  _ Pansy really wanted to dig deeper—to find out why he had acted that way, but she was not about to humiliate herself further. She knew that since he had a girlfriend now, their frequent meet ups were likely going to cease and her pride dictated she be the one to make it clear. Glancing down at the field, she said, “Look, your team is heading out for their warm-ups. You better get back out there.” As Oliver stood, Pansy gently touched his arm, trying to keep her voice steady. “I am going to be absolutely  _ swamped _ over the next couple months, so I guess I’ll see you at the wedding?” 

A look of hurt flashed across Oliver’s face, but it quickly vanished, leaving nothing but his casual cheekiness behind. If Pansy had blinked, she'd have missed it. “Alright, Pansy.” He swung his leg over his broom, slowly floating up. “We’re good, right?” 

_ Damn it. There’s that smile again.  _

Pansy smiled back. “Of course. And good luck today.” 

Oliver gave her a wink as he flew across the field to meet his teammates. 

_ And Merlin, if she didn’t miss him already.  _

********************************************

  
  


**_December 2002_ **

Pansy walked through the gates of Malfoy Manor arm in arm with Theo, taking in the gorgeous scenery. The moonlight reflected off the glistening blanket of snow, creating an ethereal glow—the perfect setting for a wedding. Rows of twinkling fairy lights lit the pathway leading to their seats, and a large archway made of white roses and lilies stood at the front. Snowflakes fell softly as a string quartet enchanted the area with a cascading, romantic melody. Though it was a snowy night in December, Pansy felt the warming charms wash over her and Theo as they found their seats in the first row. 

She felt the anticipation bubbling under her skin—anticipation for the ceremony, anticipation for the reception, and most of all, anticipation of seeing Oliver with his girlfriend. 

Theo leaned down and whispered in her ear, “You alright, Pans? You seem a little on edge.” 

Coming with Theo had been her last resort. Not that he wasn’t a great guy, but Theo was very much a brother to her and also very much gay. However, after the scene she pulled in her office, coming alone wasn’t an option. Luckily, Theo happened to be just as single, with the added bonus of wanting to accompany Pansy on her many dress shopping ventures. She ended up choosing a silky floor length crimson gown after Theo made a lewd comment about how well it accentuated her arse. 

“Yes. Just thinking that Granger is definitely going to trip when she walks down the aisle. She’s hopeless in heels.” 

Theo chuckled. “You’re terrible.” 

Pansy smirked and glanced around the yard. More people were starting to enter and find their seats. She spotted Longbottom and his wife, Hannah chatting with Lovegood while Mcgonagall seemed to be escorting a few of Granger’s wide eyed muggle relatives to their seats. Potter came and sat down in the chair next to her, with Daphne and Weasley following close behind. 

Daphne leaned over Potter and tapped Pansy on her arm. “Have you seen him yet?” 

Potter responded, “Who?” 

Pansy shot him a glare. “This doesn’t concern you.” Bringing her gaze back to Daphne, Pansy quipped, “No. But of course I haven’t been looking.” 

Daphne rolled her eyes, mouthing _ sure _ before turning back to Ron. 

The music changed, signalling to everyone to find their seats as the officiant made her way to the front. 

The ceremony was absolutely perfect. Draco entered first, escorting Narcissa— who was the embodiment of elegance and beauty. Pansy watched as Draco took his spot, his back facing the crowd. Not long after, Blaise joined Draco with a slap on his shoulder, while Ginny took her place on the other side. The music swelled in a way that could only mean Hermione was entering, and she saw Draco take a deep breath before he turned to capture the vision of his bride. Everyone stood to watch as she gracefully floated down the aisle, a parent on either side as her escorts. She was positively  _ glowing _ . Hermione’s beauty was enrapturing—the sparkling stars and glittering snow did not hold a candle to her radiance. 

They both shed tears as they made their vows, wrapping a glowing silver ribbon around their wrists to signify their marriage bond. Pansy blinked back a few tears of her own thinking about all they had been through; how they all ended up here, together. Hermione and Draco’s love was so pure and strong, despite the tarnished, terrible obstacles they’d faced. Looking around, Pansy realised that Daphne had been right—the war  _ did  _ matter, but at some point they had all moved on. They had removed the chains of bias from their wrists and allowed themselves the freedom to start anew. 

_ Perhaps she needed to remove her chains, too.  _

With a passionate kiss and a chorus of cheers, the ceremony ended and Pansy began to make her way to the reception area.    
  
The space was slowly filling as people crowded to watch the newlyweds take their first dance. Hermione giggled as Draco spun her around on the dancefloor, completely enraptured by his new bride. 

Surrounding the large dance floor were many circular tables draped with intricate lace tablecloths. Each table had a setting for enchanted platters of endless food and drink, and it looked as if the alcohol was already flowing. Pansy headed over and plucked a crystal glass, indulging in a sip of the crisp champagne. She glanced around, hoping to spot Theo, but it seemed as if he had his own social agenda for the evening. 

She couldn’t help herself as she began scanning the area again, this time in search of a different wizard. Not that it mattered, but she at least wanted to say hello. The few times she had seen him in passing at various Quidditch matches just didn’t satisfy. Pansy wanted him to make her laugh again—to throw a few of his smiles her way. 

She sighed deeply before taking another sip. Maybe she could settle on being  _ just friends _ with Oliver. Merlin knows the man was worth it. 

“You know, the way you look in that dress could kill a man.” 

She felt the heat of another body press against her back. That familiar voice—so deep and soft whispering in her ear. She turned her head to meet the dark brown eyes of Oliver Wood. He looked incredible in his navy blue muggle suit, fitted to perfection—showcasing his broad shoulders. 

She was left momentarily speechless, basking in the warmth of the man who she had left cold. 

Oliver slipped his hand into hers and leaned in close. “Dance with me.” 

It wasn’t a question.

Pansy allowed Oliver to lead her to the dance floor. He pulled her close, fitting around her in the perfect imitation of a lover. He was as suited to dancing as he was to flying, his style and embrace impeccable. As they swayed to the music, Pansy couldn’t help but wonder where his girlfriend was, and if she’d be upset with Oliver for asking her to dance. She quietly asked, “Did you bring a date? I was hoping to meet her.”

Oliver looked down, a dreamy smile lighting up his face. “Oh, the woman I asked ended up coming with another bloke.” 

Pansy stopped dancing to take a step back. “Are you telling me your  _ girlfriend _ decided to bring another man to the wedding?” She was frozen in disbelief. 

Chucking, Oliver pulled her back in and continued their gentle sway. He leaned in close, his breath tickling Pansy’s ear. “There was a bit of a misunderstanding about whether or not she was  _ actually _ my girlfriend.” 

Pansy felt breathless. Oliver’s breath was warm and smelled of firewhisky. She was in a daze from the low timbre of his voice, his thick Scottish accent, and the feel of his calloused hands clutching hers. “What kind of misunderstanding?” 

He hummed. “I thought we were dating, but as it turns out, she only wanted to be friends.” 

_ Was this witch crazy?  _

Before she could stop herself, she whispered, “Is she insane?”

“What makes you say that, Pansy?”

It was all too much. She had missed Oliver terribly over the past couple months and now he was  _ here. _ And Merlin, he was all encompassing. They were alone, in their own world. Pansy wanted nothing more than to continue wrapping herself in his warmth. “I just mean…”

“Yeah?”

She realised they had stopped moving. He had her pulled so tight against him— his hand on the small of her back, gripping the crimson fabric. She leaned back, just a bit, to meet his gaze. Her pride be damned. “What I mean to say is… if it had been me, I’d have never settled for  _ just friends _ —not with you.” 

His eyes darkened as he  _ somehow _ pulled her in even closer. His lips grazed her ear as he murmured, “It  _ was  _ you, you absolutely infuriating witch.” Before she had a chance to respond, Oliver captured her lips in a ravenous kiss. It was both nothing and everything that Pansy had ever imagined it to be. Oliver’s mouth was feverish and hungry over hers, devouring her with unanticipated passion. If she wasn’t careful, Pansy would be lost in him forever.

Pulling away, Pansy stared up at Oliver, her eyes brimming with all the questions she had dared not ask. With a slight shake of her head she asked, “How did you know?” 

Oliver chucked and brought his hand up to cradle her face—his thumb delicately dancing across her cheek. “I heard from a friend that you were coming to the wedding with Nott. I have it on good authority that Nott fancies blokes.” 

“On  _ whose  _ authority?”

“Mate on my team’s brother went on a few dates with him a while back. That and—” Oliver motioned with his head and Pansy turned around to see Theo clearly flirting with one of Granger’s cousins. 

Pansy sighed and rolled her eyes. “Can’t take him anywhere.” 

“That’s when it dawned on me that we…” Oliver shook his head, “that I had been the world’s biggest git.” 

Pansy cocked her head and nodded for him to continue. 

He took a deep breath. “I thought it was obvious that I liked you—a lot. I couldn’t stop talking about you to anyone who would listen. I’m not sure on the specifics, but somewhere down the line word got back to you about, well  _ you— _ but I had never actually admitted my feelings to you, so you didn’t know.” 

The pieces started falling into place and Pansy couldn’t help but laugh. “And before you found out my hot date was Theo, you figured I didn’t share those same feelings for you.” 

Giving her a lopsided grin, he shrugged. “Can you blame me? A beautiful, intelligent, cunning woman like you? I didn’t think I stood a chance.”

Pansy lifted herself onto her toes and pulled Oliver close, their lips almost touching and whispered, “We are such _ fools _ , Oliver.” She closed the distance between them and let go of the doubt and insecurity that had weighed on her for months. She felt lighter, freer—the chains of bias finally fell from her wrists and she wrapped her arms around his neck, deepening their kiss. 

Through the blissful haze that enveloped them, Pansy heard Daphne screech, “I knew it!” 

They both smiled into their kiss before breaking away as Oliver chuckled. “Shall we join them for dinner?” 

Pansy glanced over to Daphne who was staring at her with a mischievous grin. She rolled her eyes, shooting Daphne back a glare that carried no malice, before taking Oliver’s hand and leading them to the table. 

After enjoying their dinner, champagne, and far too many emotional speeches, Hermione announced it was time for the bouquet toss. 

Standing at the edge of the dance floor, Hermione turned so her back was facing the crowd of women. Pansy stood off to the side, trying not to show her true feelings about this silly muggle tradition. 

“Okay, everyone! On the count of three I am going to toss!” Hermione shouted over the giggles and chatter. “One...Two…” At the last moment, Hermione turned around and made direct eye contact with Pansy before shouting “Three!” and tossing it right into Pansy’s hands. 

Pansy caught the bouquet and noticed a little piece of parchment poking out amidst the white roses. She unfolded the note, recognising the messy scrawl immediately. 

_ Now you’ve heard it from me— _

_ Oliver Wood fancies Pansy Parkinson.  _

She couldn’t help but grin before glancing up to find those beautiful dark eyes from across the floor. She felt the butterflies begin to rise as Oliver flashed her  _ that damn smile _ and pinned her with a wink. 

Pansy smiled to herself. 

_ It seems as though Slytherins did have a way of capturing those brave Gryffindor hearts.  _


End file.
